The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

Ele tried to sit up, wiggling away from him and straightening everything. Her cap had fallen off, so she grabbed it and shoved it on her head. She jumped to her feet, looking guilty and nervous. Tristan, on the other hand, stood leisurely, adjusted his rapidly deflating erection, and padded slowly to the door. Just as he was about to look through the peephole, an impatient knock sounded.

Tristan opened the door just enough to admit Robert.

He expected a pissed-off bodyguard, but Robert was stoic.

“Davenport.”

“Robert.” Tristan couldn’t resist adding, “Took you longer than I’d thought.”

With an impassive face, Robert winked at Tristan before saying, “Just long enough, I’m assuming.”

Ele came forward, penitent. “I’m so—”

“Your Highness,” Robert interrupted gently.

He’d been emotionless with Tristan, but Tris could see Robert’s restraint. He was angry, but he wasn’t going to take it out on Ele.

“We need to get back to your room. The path is clear now, but we don’t have much time.”

With those ominous words, Ele turned briefly to Tristan. “After your game,” she said.

He nodded. Then, because he felt he somehow had Robert’s approval to do so, he cupped her cheek and kissed her hard. “After our win.”

12

24 June

SeatGeek Stadium, Illinois

Ele was perched on the edge of the seat, her eyes glued to Tristan as he dribbled down the pitch. He passed the ball, continuing his run, until the ball came back to his feet like it was on a tether. The cheers and applause from the stadium told her the people around her felt it too. Something special was going to happen. Tristan lofted the ball into the center of the pitch, and Rowan’s head flicked it, sending it past the keeper and into the back of the net. The crowd went wild, and the dignitaries in the box went wild with them. There were high fives and hugs. Although it was hot, the fans rooting for her country’s team waved blue-and-gold scarfs in the air.

Tristan and Rowan met halfway between the goal and the sideline. Tristan leaped into the air, and Rowan caught him. The rest of the team followed, jumping on top of the two teammates until there was just a pile of men. When they disentangled from each other, Tristan and Rowan performed an elaborate handshake that seemed to excite the crowd even more.

Ele’s eyes remained locked on Tristan Davenport because, in that moment, he wasn’t the man whose room she’d snuck into two nights ago. He wasn’t the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about. He was a footballer, a crowd-pleaser. It was disconcerting in a way she imagined Tristan experienced whenever she was in tiara mode. It was like she knew him but didn’t.

The smile on his face was magnetic, and the star power was tangible. He didn’t belong to her like he had the last two times they were together. He belonged to the people in this crowd, her countrymen watching from home, his teammates. Separated by a field and a crowd, she thought it unlikely she even knew him.

“Your Highness,” Robert said, nudging her.

She looked over to him, and he nodded to the screen. Across the vast expanse of the stadium, on a screen larger than her hotel suite, was her own image. Her gaze had been fixed on the action below, but as she glanced up at herself, she saw a vast smile, sparkling eyes, a girl-next-door aura. Her navy-and-gold ensemble along with the sash across her chest set her apart from the other spectators, but her expression said she was basking in the glory of her team taking the lead in a deadlocked match. There wasn’t one shard of ice in the image. Because she had been trained, because her whole life had been about her position, she lifted her hand and waved.

The crowd went crazy. The scarves twisted wildly in the air as those cheering for her country stayed on their feet in tribute. But Ele turned her eyes back to the men lining up on the pitch. Both teams had noticed the uptick in noise level and were staring up at the big screen. Then, Tristan turned his head and seemed to stare right at her. She knew he couldn’t see her, but his gaze caressed her all the same. The heat she was coming to associate with him shimmered through her, anticipation heating her blood.

The whistle blew, and the moment was gone. Ele refocused on the match below, her eyes trained on Tristan. Before she knew it, the match was over, and the teams were meeting to shake hands. Her gaze never left Tristan as he moved among the men on the field below. It looked like he exchanged pleasantries with every member of the opposing team. When he met the officials in the center, he shook their hands, clapping each of them on the shoulder.

He’s Mr. Congeniality.

It was daunting, watching all of the energy he expended as he interacted with every person he encountered. He reminded her of Jamie with his ability to set people at ease and to walk away from them, knowing they had a smile on their faces. That type of gregarious behavior exhausted her. And intimidated her. Everyone loved him. And no one really liked her.

So, why does he?

She had to be way more trouble than was worth for him. Sneaking around for a shag didn’t seem like something he needed to do. She bet he could have any woman he wanted.

“Are you ready?” Robert asked.

The stadium was slowly emptying, and she was still sitting there.

She glanced up at Robert and nodded. “Of course.”